


Valentine's Day

by talefeathers



Series: Valentine's Days [1]
Category: Romeo And Juliet - All Media Types, Romeo And Juliet - Shakespeare
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Gen, Grief/Mourning, happy birthday val
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-24
Updated: 2015-02-24
Packaged: 2018-03-14 20:48:51
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 772
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3425096
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/talefeathers/pseuds/talefeathers
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's Valentine's birthday, and for the first time since he was born Mercutio isn't here to help celebrate.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Valentine's Day

This February 14th, Mercutio wasn’t crouching behind Valentine’s bedroom door with intentions of side-tackling the birthday boy on his emergence. He wasn’t waiting downstairs, either, with a box of red-and-pink-sprinkled donuts and an ostentatious balloon bouquet stuffed with birthday wishes, Valentine’s Day greetings, and the odd _Frozen_ mylar. He wasn’t even off studying at some university or working an early shift at some job, as most of his graduating class currently was.

This February 14th, Mercutio was dead.

Still, Valentine managed a sleepy smile when his uncle greeted him in the hallway with a tight hug and a murmured “Happy birthday.” He managed to blow out all the candles on his birthday pancakes in one shot and to clean his plate with gusto. He managed to come back to every Valentine’s Day pun tossed his way by a classmate or a teacher with a unique response, each funnier than the last. He managed to smile for a few Snapchats and do it for a few Vines.

For two meals, two bus rides, and seven class periods, Valentine managed.

It wasn’t until he let himself through the front door with his house key that he let the easy grin fall from his features. Finally alone, he closed his eyes and let go a deep sigh.

It was the earliest he’d been home on his birthday in three years. When Mercutio had gotten his license he’d started a tradition of taking Valentine out on wild birthday excursions, never knowing where they would end up until they got there. On Valentine’s 12th birthday they’d found an amazing laser tag course; on his 14th it was what must have been the biggest garage sale in the tri-state area. Valentine’s favorite part of these outings, however, had always been the car rides, when they had screamed along to the radio with the windows rolled down, changing the lyrics of the Top 40 to conform to their elaborate system of inside jokes and laughing until they couldn’t breathe.

Valentine opened his eyes. After another moment of letting the house’s yawning silence wash over him, he began to mount the stairs. Instead of taking the right that would lead him to his own room, he went left and pushed his way into his brother’s, still exactly as he’d left it. He dropped himself onto the bed, inhaled Mercutio’s familiar (but fading) scent. He curled his fingers into the comforter.

“Hey,” he murmured. “In answer to the yearly question, no, being fifteen does not feel any different from being fourteen. I mean, I don’t think so, anyway. It’s kind of hard to tell what’s a result of getting older and what’s a result of you being gone.”

He was quiet for a moment. He began to trace patterns in the vibrant purple fabric on which he lay.

“I wish we could’ve gone on our trip this year. There’s some super hip music festival going on in Mantua. We could’ve cast judgment upon the attendees and enjoyed some eccentric catering.”

He stopped again. He could feel his throat tightening. He pulled a pillow from the head of the bed and wrapped his arms around it.

“I’ve been getting better,” he promised. “I have, I really have. It’s just. I dunno. Today's hard. You never used to let anything keep you from making this the best day ever. Even when you were dating somebody, you always made sure it was my birthday first and Romantic Love and Capitalism Day second. Y'know?”

He swallowed past a dry click in his throat.

“I just miss you,” he said, voice brittle. “It still hurts.”

He hugged the pillow tighter, squeezing his eyes shut as tears spilled from them.

“But I’m okay,” he insisted even as his breath began to hitch. He managed a watery laugh. “I had a really good birthday, honest, I just -- I just -- you should _be_ here.” He sniffed, wiping his eyes on the pillow, crushing it in his wiry arms. “And I can’t get used to the fact that you’re not.”

For a while he fell silent with the exception of the occasional sob.

“I know you’re not supposed to tell anybody your wish,” he said finally, once his tears had died down and he’d rolled onto his back, pulling his sweater sleeves across his eyes and nose. “But I just. I hope you’re happy, wherever you are.” 

He exhaled and let his eyes fall shut. When Escalus returned from work late that night, he found Valentine fully clothed and fast asleep in Mercutio’s bed, but he didn’t wake him, stopped by the small smile gently curled onto his nephew’s face.


End file.
